Smoke and Mirrors
by marmaroth
Summary: Chapter 2: "'Oh, hell,' I repeated, because it was finally occurring to me that Death Note was real and the world as I knew it would never be the same again and my entire life was turning into fanfiction and holy sh*t I was in way over my head." Your average anime fan goes to Death Note spiel. Sort of. Pen name formerly nagashinokuro
1. reality

**SMOKE AND MIRRORS**

_ nagashi no kuro_

_Death Note © Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata_

**I.**

**reality**

**(****現****)**

* * *

**side note I**

_On September 28, 2007, the severed lower half of a Caucasian male was found in Belgium. Beside the remains lay two notes that read, in romaji: _watashi wa Kira desu.

"I am Kira."

_The crime was given a special nickname by the Belgium media: Mangamoord —manga murder. To them, it was an opportunity to seize readership._

_The internet manga community exploded into discussion, with wannabe "L"s making extrapolations about the murderer, and wannabe "Soichiro"s attempting to placate the others, and wannabe "Matsuda"s pointing out the obvious. To them, it was an opportunity to expound upon what they had only ever read about in books._

_The rest of the world murmured, troubled, as it had always done, whispering about the twisted ideals of Japanese comics, the corruption of today's youth. To them, it was an opportunity to comment and purge._

_But there was one fact that no one could deny._

_It was a reminder, horrifying and fascinating, of what happened when imagination became all too real._

* * *

My name is Yue.

No, not really.

But you understand, right? In a world like this, dangerous and untrustworthy, giving out your real name to anyone is impossible. Hence, I picked out an alias. It was a name close enough to my real one that I wouldn't stop and look confused if someone used it.

On November 28, 2010, I was a high school student in the United States of America.

An ordinary high school student. No danger. No distrust. No aliases. A normal happy family, a close circle of sort-of friends.

I lived in an area where almost everyone was well off—not rich, per se, but above average. A school where drugs and gang violence were almost unheard of. I was Chinese-American, and studying to get into a good college was my primary pastime. The other pastime was, of course, reading manga, but doing so wasn't really a big deal. Almost everyone I knew read manga or watched anime; they just weren't as into it as I was.

But I digress.

On November 28, 2003, I was nothing more than an ordinary high school student.

"What'd you get on the chem test?" one of my classmates said, slapping her paper on my desk. "Look—35 out of 40. Three points away from the curve, damn it. I bet you got better."

I shook my head. "33."

Her face fell. "O—oh." Awkwardly, she tried to cheer me up. "But your grade's still an A, so it doesn't matter, right?"

"Mm, it doesn't matter."

"R-right…" She shifted from foot to foot. What was her name again? Rachel? Rebecca? "Well, I should go check my overall."

"Yeah, you should." I watched her go with passive eyes, then returned to flipping through my textbook. She was a nice enough girl, I guess. I'd never really talked with her much about anything besides grades.

Then again, there wasn't anything else for me to talk about with most of my peers besides grades. Pop culture, the latest styles, the funniest YouTube stars—none of it interested me. The things I loved, like anime—none of it interested them.

And the people who it _did_ interest—I suppose, looking back, that we were kind of social outcasts. None of us had ever noticed it, though. Being used to it, and being fine with it, made us immune to odd looks and whispers in the hallway.

There were a few things that we had in common with the rest of our school, though, interest in grades and colleges being the first. The fierce competition. The strive for the top. Curiosity and nosiness—who was getting in where, what summer programs people were planning on applying for, which internship so-and-so had managed to snag, how many hours of community service he-or-she had completed—

Pointless.

Who cared, really? It wasn't as if success in high school affected success in real life. You could graduate a valedictorian and die a hobo.

Well, it wasn't like I stood out much from the crowd. Thoughts were just thoughts, after all. On the surface I was just like everyone else: trying to get into a top university, buying textbooks with my parents' money rather than an iTouch or a new laptop, bemoaning the potential loss of my straight As.

The bell rang.

"Remember, your semester project is due two days from now," the teacher intoned. "You have a quiz on gas laws this Friday. The homework is on the board…"

There was a chorus of "goodbyes" as we left, but most of us simply scrambled, like so many rats, to pack away our textbooks and binders and get home.

"That was bad, huh?" Another classmate laughed. David. We weren't particularly close, but he was part of our circle of weirdoes, if a little loosely. "I think my grade went down three percent just with that one test."

"Good for you." I grinned at him to show him I was joking. He rolled his eyes.

"Thanks for the support. How'd you do?"

"Probably worse. It was pretty awful."

"Aw, come off it. I bet you got a 90, didn't you?" He waited, but I didn't reply. "Alright, don't tell me if you don't want to. More importantly, have you seen the _Death Note_ movie yet?"

"No, have you?"

Banter. The idle chatter of ordinary classmates.

"I heard they're showing it in anime club tomorrow. Subbed."

"Are you se—geh!"

In a splendid, extraordinary demonstration of feminine gracefulness and serenity, I had tripped and now lay sprawled on the ground like a crushed frog. David snorted.

"Good job."

"Shut up," was my clever reply. I sat up, rubbing the back of my bruised head. "Ow…what did I trip over, anyway?"

"Looks like someone's book." He bent down and picked it up with one hand, flipping through it. "Or some kind of diary."

From my vantage point, and from the way he was holding it, I had a very, very good view of the front cover. "Lemme see that!"

David blinked when I sprang up and wrested it from his grip. "Geez, what's your problem?"

I flipped through the pages the way he had, excitement building. "David, check it out! It's a Death Note! Legit like the anime and everything—it's even got the rules written in them! And it looks brand new, there aren't any names written in it yet! How lucky is this?" I blabbered on with the excitement of an anime fan who had just discovered a piece of free merchandise, but he looked at me blankly.

"Uh—okay. If you say so."

I rolled my eyes. "Are you stupid? Look!" I shoved the thin black notebook in his face. "See? DEATH NOTE. What's wrong with you? I thought you were a true fan—you disappoint me."

"Fan of what?" Now he just looked confused, and _I _was the one looking at him strangely.

"Uh. _Death Note_?" When he made no expression of recognition, I prompted him again. "Light Yagami? Ryuzaki? Ryuk the Shinigami? Criminals dying? The movie we're watching in anime club tomorrow?"

His face remained confused. "What are you talking about? What does _The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya_ have to do with criminals?"

I scowled at him. "David, that's not funny."

"Hey, I knew you took anime seriously, but I didn't think you took it _that_ seriously."

"Do you _seriously_ have the memory span of a goldfish? I thought you were joking when you said that. You just told me two minutes ago that we were watching _Death Note_ in anime club tomorrow."

"I never said that," he said, growing frustrated. "I said we were watching _Disappearance_. You sure you're not the one with short-term memory loss?"

"Positive." But I really wasn't that sure. I tended to be absent-minded, and sometimes had the bad habit of tricking myself into remembering something that had only happened in my head. "Well, whatever. We'll just see in anime club tomorrow, right? No big deal." I had a sudden thought. "Hey, you don't want the Death Note, do you?"

He shrugged. "Keep it. Why would I want a diary?"

I opened my mouth to remind him that it _wasn't _a diary, it was a _Death Note_ that could go for ten bucks on eBay, but he'd already started to walk off. I sighed and shook my head. Clearly he wasn't as serious about anime as my friends and I were. Maybe I'd even weirded him out a little. Well, if I had, I guess I could apologize tomorrow, but for now, I had a Death Note!

I opened it again as I started my walk home, just to make sure it was legitimate and not some piece of cheap junk. There was no sign of the buyer or seller, not even a price sticker or a company name, but maybe they'd wanted it to look more official. I'd never actually seen a real Death Note before, so I couldn't be sure if that was common practice. The first few pages, though, made me certain of its legitimacy. They were black and emblazoned with the title: HOW TO USE.

_Wow, seriously lucky. I can't wait to tell everyone about this._

The rules were in messy, uneven but still legible font. I didn't remember if it was exactly Ryuk's handwriting, but it was still cool and I could compare with my friends later—several of them had Death Notes, too. I knew I was never going to use this (even if it wasn't a Death Note, I usually never used any of my anime merchandise anyway; it all sat in my room, looking untouched and brand new), but reading the rules straight from a book was still a thrilling experience.

_1.1 ENTERING NAMES. The human whose name is written in this note shall die. This note will not take effect unless the writer has the subject's face in mind when writing his/her name. This is to prevent people who share the same name from being affected._

I'd reached the front of my house. I unlocked the door with a sigh, looked at the doormat: only one pair of shoes. "I'm home."

"Oh, you're home, Yue?" my grandma shouted from the kitchen. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes; it wasn't her fault she was practically half-deaf.

"Yes, Grandma, I'm home!"

"Do you want some fruit?"

"No thanks, I'm not hungry."

"Okay," I could see her nodding complacently, and then going back to making dumplings or steam buns or whatever she was up to this time. My grandma loved cooking; it was one of the reasons she liked staying here, where Chinese cuisine the way she made it was a rarity that everyone appreciated.

I stepped into my room, where a plethora of anime posters lined the walls. The first thing I noticed, though, was—

"Hey, where's my poster of L?"

I didn't have that many posters, and I didn't tend to be very obsessive over them, so it would usually take me a few days before realizing there was one gone. This one, however, was the only one on the back of my door, so it was hard to miss.

My first thought was that it'd fallen on the ground, but a quick check proved that wrong. Then I immediately thought of my little sister, who had a bad habit of taking my things, but a search through her room proved fruitless.

_Maybe she took it to school with her this morning_, I thought exasperatedly. _I guess I'll ask her when she gets home_.

So I set the Death Note down on my desk, and for the next hour the missing poster slipped from my mind as I finished off my homework.

Then I stood up to take a break, and remembering the Death Note again, figured I should set it next to the rest of my _Death Note_ things (which included the two light novels, volume 12, _Death Note 13: How to Read_, and a collection of fanart). I turned to my bookshelves, but…

There wasn't a huge empty space where my _Death Note_ things should be.

No, my other books still fit together perfectly, in alphabetical order, still filling up the bookshelf the way I liked it.

But.

"What the hell?"

_Death Note: Another Note_, volume 12, even the fanart—all of it was gone.

Had my little sister gone and taken _all_ of my stuff? But no, she was annoying, but she wouldn't do something like that. And I'd just looked through her room without finding anything; she couldn't have taken it all to school.

_Then where—?_

Thus began a frantic overturning of my room. Not just my room, but the rest of the house, too. I checked the drawers no one had opened in years, the closet we never used—hell, I even checked the bathrooms, in case someone had taken the books in there for some reading while sitting in the loo, but no luck. I was forced to admit defeat, but I wasn't going to do it happily.

"Did someone steal them? Why on Earth would they—? No, there's no evidence of burglary, and my grandma's been home all day. She wouldn't let anyone in."

Reduced to talking to myself.

"What if someone did steal them, though? That'd actually be kind of interesting. A really rabid anime fan reduced to theft. Maybe they saw all my stuff through the window and decided to take it for themselves?" I didn't kid myself for long, though. "That's stupid. And anyway, why go just for Death Note? Why not anything else?"

Still, the thought plagued me. But what could I do about it? Call the police? _Hi, I'm a high school student and I think an obsessive anime fan stole all my merchandise. Can you track him down so I can have my poster back?_

Hilarious.

"Maybe I'm not the only one?"

There was another thought. Maybe this mysterious _Death Note_ lover had hit more than one victim? After all, I hadn't really had much. The idea was still far-fetched, but I decided to turn on my laptop and open Google for some research.

_Death Note theft_, I typed.

"_Theft: define Theft at …Grand Theft Auto San Andreas Mods…Robot Chicken ~ Grand Theft Mario Brothers…J.K. Lasser's Your Income Tax 2008: For Preparing Your 2007 Tax Return_…"

Okay. This wasn't working.

_Obsessive Death Note fan,_ I typed.

"_Super OCD-Television Tropes & Idioms…Monk (TV series)…Obsessive fan told to stay away from Madonna's New York City home…_"

I gave up. There was clearly no _Death Note_-obsessed burglar out there, no matter how paranoid I was.

There was something that kind of bothered me about those search results, though. After all, with a fandom that big, even if you typed in something as stupid as "Death Note theft," you should still get results somewhat related to _Death Note_, right?

But none of the search results had actually mentioned _Death Note_ at all. Hell, none of them even linked to anime fansites.

The irritation wouldn't go away. Part of it was my paranoia, but part of it was also my pride in being a _Death Note_ fan. After all, _Death Note_ had been one of the most popular manga out there for a while, even well-known among non-anime-fans, perhaps for different reasons.

So I opened Google again.

_Death Note_, I typed.

Five minutes later, I was almost ready to throw my computer on the ground in disbelief.

"What the—you can't be serious!"

"_Death- Wikipedia the free encyclopedia…Notepad + + …San Francisco Genealogy, Obituaries and Death Notices…Department of Public Health: Birth and Death Records…Welcome to Empty Words…Google Notebook…What is note? Definition and Meaning…Near-Death Experiences and the Afterlife…Blue Note Records…Death (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy)—"_

Nothing about _Death Note_.

None. Zero. Nada.

"Maybe there's something wrong with the search engine," I muttered to myself, my fingers tapping frantically at the keyboard. "Yeah, that's it. Maybe if I use different key words?"

_Light Yagami_, I typed.

"_Light: define Light at …Yagami (surname) (Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia), Iori Yagami (SNK Playmore)…HowStuffWorks "How Light Works"…Yagami Ren-Drama Wiki…Christian Talk Radio: The Light for San Francisco…Taiko with Toni Yagami Japanese Percussion Ensemble…City Lights…Lamps Plus…"_

"You can't be serious," I repeated, typing with increasing desperation.

_Raito Yagami._

_Near. Nate Rivers._

_Mello. Mihael Keehl._

_Soichiro Yagami. Touta Matsuda. Watari. Quilish Wammy. Wammy's House. L: Change the WorLd. Another Note Ryuk Shinigami Rem Misa Amane_—

I came to a stop.

"_Black Cherries~ MisaMisa's Homepage_~ _click here for English translation._"

I obeyed.

"_Home. Profile. History. News. Forum. Photos._" _What on Earth—?_ I clicked on a photo, hesitantly. A ditzy blonde smiled up at me cutely, in one of the flashiest Gothic Lolita outfits I'd ever seen.

"…a really good cosplayer?" I deduced. _It's scary how good, though. She looks almost _exactly_ like Misa from the movie, except with blonde hair. Wig? Dyed? No, definitely dyed._ For a moment the anime fan in me itched to dissect the components of the cosplay, but I resisted.

The more important question was, why could I find a website about Misa, but not about any of the other characters who had much bigger fanbases?

And there was no mention of _Death Note_ on the website, either. I scrolled through every page, even most of the forums, but found nothing.

_Then again, this is an English translation. Maybe something didn't make it over. Google translates are pretty bad, after all._

Denial.

At that point, the truth had already begun to occur to me, but I couldn't believe it. I refused to believe it. After all, such things went against everything I knew about logic, science, the laws of the universe.

I reached for the phone. I had to dial several times before getting the right number, because my fingers were shaking so much.

"Hey, Elaine? Yeah, this is Yue. Do you still have your _Death Note_ volumes, by any chance?"

"What are you talking about?"

I had to fight to stay calm. "Didn't you tell me before that you had all thirteen volumes of _Death Note_?"

"Wasn't me. I don't have any." I could practically hear her shrug over the phone, unconcerned. "Sorry, must've been someone else."

"Have you ever heard of _Death Note_, at least?" I gave it one last try.

"Nope. Is it good?"

"Ah—never mind, then. Don't worry about it." I paused before hanging up. "Elaine?"

"What's up?"

She was the anime club activities coordinator. She'd know, right? "What're we watching tomorrow?"

"_The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya._ It's on the website, you can just check there, but I'm pretty sure."

My heart sank. "Oh. O-Okay. Thanks."

"Something wrong?" Now she sounded concerned. "You don't sound good."

"Don't worry about it," I repeated. "Thanks again, Elaine. Bye."

I vaguely heard her confused "bye" as I hung up, my hands shaking even more.

I knew for _sure_ Elaine had owned all thirteen volumes of _Death Note_, and a fan Death Note herself besides. She loved it. She'd gone with me to see the first and second movies a few years ago. She even had the opening and ending songs of the anime on her iPod.

So, why? Why had she suddenly acted like she didn't know anything?

Why had she acted like _Death Note_ had never existed for her?

She couldn't be playing a prank on me, could she? Maybe everyone else was in on it too. I knew several of our friends were computer savvy. They could've come in to my room under some pretense with my grandma, taken my books and poster, fiddled with my laptop…

Now that was paranoid, even for me. And Elaine wouldn't do something like that.

Suddenly, something occurred to me. A keyword I'd missed.

"Oh…oh, right! Why didn't I think of that before?"

So it was true that in panic, you tended to lose focus.

"Okay. Okay, let's try this. If this doesn't work, then—"

_L Lawliet_, I typed.

I tried to hide my disappointment when nothing relevant came up, again.

"That's just his full name, though. Maybe something else?"

_Detective L_, I typed.

I skimmed through the results: _Detective-Wikipedia the free encyclopedia…L's Caffe…detective fiction…LaTeX-A document preparation system…Police and Detectives…Sherlock Holmes…Chicago "L".org…Private Investigators…__**there!**_

My mouse hovered what could finally be my salvation.

_Detective L: Truth or fiction?_

Heart in my throat, I clicked the link.

_**Not many know of L. Secretive, elusive, and fond of his privacy, he prefers to remain unremarkable to all those besides workers in organizations such as the FBI, the CIA, and various other international police and security departments. However, the truth of the matter is that L is a great detective, perhaps the greatest in the world, and has solved numerous difficult cases…**_

"What is this?"

This wasn't what I had been looking for. This was almost like the webpage about Misa. With a feeling of growing dread, I read the rest of the article.

…_**not much is known about him besides his great skill and knowledge. He usually keeps contact with other organizations through the computer. His true identity is kept secret for his own safety. Because of this, many in the police force have dubbed him the "armchair detective." However, it is this website's goal to reveal the truth about the elusive L…**_

Yes, almost exactly like the webpage of Misa. Both of them had seemed like…like…

Like Misa and L were _real_.

"Gahaha!"

I must have jumped about a foot in the air. _If I could jump that high in PE, maybe I'd have a better grade there_, I thought vaguely, before grabbing the nearest weapon—my biology textbook—and preparing to face the intruder.

What I saw before me made me forget the textbook completely.

A creature that was so horrible, so twisted, that I instinctively drew back. It was almost three times my size and looked something like a skeletal pterodactyl, but with its white bones sewn into place. Great, skeletal wings stretched out behind it and actually _passed through_ the walls of my room before it settled in place on the back of my chair. There were arms—twisted, barely humanoid arms, looking as if it had stolen the arms of a skeleton and fixed them onto itself. It had empty sockets for eyes, but I couldn't shake off the feeling that there was still _something_ staring at me there.

It was horrible. Yet, the artist in me—or at least the manga fan—couldn't help but appreciate the dark beauty within the horror, the design of something that could invoke such fear and repulsion in a human being.

And this creature wasn't human, at all. My eyes flickered to the little black book lying innocently on my desk. I must have gone crazy, unless—

"You…" I breathed. "You're a shinigami."

The Death Note. My missing merchandise. The lack of search results. David's and Elaine's lost memories. Misa's webpage. L.

The pieces had finally all clicked into place.

"Gahaha…" it—no, _he_—laughed, with laughter that sounded like blood and grating blades, darkly amused as it looked down at me.

Condescending. As if I were nothing more than a bit of lively entertainment. Perhaps that was how I might even have viewed my current situation, just a few hours ago.

I scrambled for my computer and found something there that made me almost scream. I practically flew under my desk for my cell phone, then under my bed for my iPod, then flipped through my books, my calendar, my planner.

"You're a funny human."

It was wrong. It was all, all wrong. No. Absolutely not.

Against the laws of the universe, and yet, here I was.

On November 28, 2010, I was an ordinary high school student, or so I'd like to believe.

November 28, 2003, though, was a completely different story.


	2. start

**SMOKE AND MIRRORS**

_nagashi no kuro_

_Death Note © Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata_

**II.**

**start**

**(****始****)**

* * *

Observation one. All _Death Note_ related sites had disappeared off the face of the Earth.

Observation two. My _Death Note_ merchandise had disappeared along with them.

Observation three. Except for a Death Note I'd randomly found on the street.

Observation four. Said Death Note came with a real shinigami.

Observation five. It was suddenly _seven years earlier_ than it should have been.

Hypothesis: I had gone utterly, irrevocably…insane.

"Gahaha! What's wrong, human? Ain't you never seen a shinigami before?"

My eye twitched. _Obviously not, dumbass, since shinigami __**aren't supposed to exist.**_ I pinched myself twice just to be safe, but I felt the pain and did not wake up, and the death god remained stubbornly perched on the edge of the chair like a giant chicken.

I took a deep, shuddering breath. "Am I crazy?" I asked my hallucination.

To my surprise, the shinigami looked almost offended, or about as offended as a pterodactyl could look.

"Gahaha, like your puny mind could come up with something like me!" he scoffed. "You humans're stupider than I thought!"

I scrutinized him like I would a lab specimen in biology. _Rude. Conceited. Looks down on humans. Probably not very bright, either. He reminds me of Ryuk, but he's probably more of a jerk. Could my mind really come up with something like this? _"What's your name?"

Really, how could something that was nothing more than patches and bones have expressions? Maybe it was the way something flashed in those sockets that stood for eyes, or the clicking that came when he shifted his bones, or the way the edges of his jaw seemed to tilt more as if he were smirking. No matter how you could tell, he looked amused, and a little proud.

"I'm the owner of that Death Note, Rethe, human, and don't you forget it!"

The Death Note. That was right. I'd almost forgotten about it. I forced myself to look away from Rethe; it lay on my desk, black and small and innocent, and I picked it up with shaking hands.

"Then this—this is real?"

"Why don't you test it out if you don't believe me?" He sighed gustily when I immediately shook my head. "Great, I got a scaredy-cat. Just my luck."

_Rude, conceited, and annoying. Just my luck. _I tried to open the book to the rules section in the beginning again, but couldn't; my hands were trembling too badly. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to stop shaking.

_Calm down. Even if this isn't a hallucination, even if you're sane and the rest of the world's gone crazy, that's more reason to not freak out._

_If the rest of the world is nuts and you're the only sane one left, what'll happen if you go crazy, too?_

**HOW TO USE, I. The human whose name is written in this note shall die… If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen. If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack…**

I had started shaking again. If this was real, what kind of power was held in these pages? The power over another human's life, to control someone's fate, even controlling their actions before they die…

A power like this, within a few pages of blank notebook paper.

Terrifying.

What was I supposed to do? Could I destroy the notebook? I remembered that in the original pilot chapter of the manga, the main character had burned his Death Note but Ryuk remained with him afterward; then again, in the second light novel L had destroyed the Death Note and Ryuk had left him. Perhaps it was the shinigami's choice to make?

I flipped through the pages, but there was nothing written that involved the notebook's destruction, only something about losing ownership:

…**Losing memory of the Death Note…will only occur when someone is actually killed using that Death Note. You will not lose memory of the Death Note if, for example, you merely owned it and did not write down anyone's name. In this case, you will not be able to hear or see the Shinigami anymore…**

"Rethe, you're supposed to follow me around since I have the Death Note, right? What will you do if I destroy the Death Note?"

"Gahaha! Why should I tell you, human?"

"…"

Useless.

No matter what, I couldn't destroy it right away, though. I had to sit down and think this all through clearly first. Yes, calm down, think things through logically. Logic was my friend. There had to be a logical explanation for this—unscientific, maybe, but logical.

After all, if even something like the Death Note had rules, this had to be logical too, right?

I pulled out a sheet of binder paper and a pencil.

"What are you doing, human?" Rethe peered over my shoulder.

_1. _Death Note _has disappeared_, I wrote. _2. L, Misa Amane, Death Notes, and Shinigami are real._

I sat back and took a deep breath, mentally running through all the fanfiction clichés I had ever read. I was still in my room, at home, with my grandma humming in the kitchen, so I could not be in the world of _Death Note_.

Rather, it seemed that the world of _Death Note_ had come to me.

I picked up my pencil again. _Conclusion 1:_ _In my world, _Death Note _is now real._

Alright. That explained the disappearance of the fandom and its replacement with the impossible. Next? I frowned and wrote:

_3. It is now 2003._

Really, how did that make any sense whatsoever? Not just a change in world, but a change in time as well? What was the point?

"..."

And why did I feel like the year 2003 was somehow significant? Perhaps it was an important date in the series?

I did some mental math.

_The series ended in the "future," in 2010. If I give the Near vs. Mello vs. Light Arc about 1 year, that takes us to 2009._

"Oi, human, what're you doing? Who's Misa Amane?" Rethe demanded. I ignored him.

_There was a five-year time skip because Light graduated from university, which takes us to 2004._

A sense of impending doom.

_The serious battle between L and Light only began after Light entered To-oh, and Japan enrollment is in the spring, so if we assume that was spring 2004, and Light was a high school student before then..._

I stopped breathing.

_Could it be—_

"Rethe!" I turned around so fast in my spinny office chair (I don't know what else to call it, okay?) that he almost fell off. "Rethe, are there any other shinigami in the human world right now?"

The giant pterodactyl-chicken-skeleton wasn't looking at me anymore; instead, he was perched with his tail in my face. "Why sh'd I answer yer questions when ya don' answer mine?"

"…are you _sulking?_"

"I am not!"

"…"

He was sulking.

Were shinigami even allowed to do that?

_I think_ _I got a shinigami that's as stupid as Ryuk. No, even worse than Ryuk. This guy must be a complete idiot. Yeah, I guess he has to be, if he dropped his notebook like this. Maybe he even came to the human world because he was kicked out by the other shinigami for his stupidity?_

"Hey," I tried. "Um. Rethe?"

"What do you want, human?"

_Rude, obnoxious, arrogant, stupid, conceited, and childish. I wonder if he likes apples._

"What questions didn't I answer for you?"

"What're you doin' on that paper? Who's Misa Amane? What's a L?"

"What's _an_ L," I corrected automatically, Grammar Nazi that I was. "I was taking notes, Misa Amane is a model, and L's a detective. Now will you answer my question?"

He drew himself up indignantly. "I'm a shinigami! I don't answer to you, stupid human!"

Five minutes later, I was probably going down in history as the first human to ever intimidate a shinigami.

"I dunno! We dun keep track of each other! S'not my business what anyone else's doin'!"

"Well, if there _were_ other shinigami here, do you know who they might be?" Despite my frustration, I had to smile; his terror was kind of cute, in a horrifying way.

He shifted his wings in what I guessed was a pterodactyl shrug. "I'ono. Ryuk, mebbe? He ain't been havin' good luck with the dice lately. Could've come down here for fun."

Oh.

_Oh—_

"—hell," I muttered, half-stupefied by the sheer insanity of it all. "Oh, hell."

_(But if this is real, then I guess hell doesn't exist…)_

"Whassit?" Rethe prodded me with his toe. His touch sent shivers traveling from the contact point, like cold ripples in a pond. "Don't ignore me, human! Whatcha doin'?"

November 28, 2003.

The day Light Yagami first discovered the Death Note.

The day I first touched that innocent-looking black book, now sitting on my desk.

"Oh, hell," I repeated, ignoring Rethe's indignant demands, because it was finally occurring to me that _Death Note_ was real and shinigami were real and L was real and you could kill people with a pen and paper and the world as I knew it would never be the same again and my entire life was turning into fanfiction and

_holy shit I was in way over my head_.

* * *

Rethe had not, contrary to my original belief, dropped down to the human realm because he got kicked out by the other shinigami. But he hadn't come down out of sheer boredom, either, which I guess was a plus for him.

No, he came down because he had been leaning over too far over the human-viewing hole when writing names in his Death Note and dropped it by accident.

Accident. Not because he was bored.

Those arms of his did look like they couldn't hold anything for long, but it was still really sad.

In the next few days, what was left of my original horror-slash-terror-slash-awe of him quickly disappeared. He was big and scary-looking, sure, but he didn't fit in with my impression of shinigami at all. He wasn't as self-centered as Ryuk, or intelligently-scary like Rem. Hell, he wasn't even adorably pathetic like Sidoh or Gelus.

He was arrogant, rude, easily intimidated and offended and amused, and not very bright. He had a short attention span and terrible grammar skills and a tender ego the size of Mount Everest.

He was like a kid.

A big terrifying horror-movie-style kid, but still a child.

He never threatened me or tried to make my life hell the way a normal shinigami might. He insulted me, he complained and whined, but mostly he hung around and sometimes—if I wanted to flatter myself—even acted friendly.

"L makes a broadcast in the Kanto region with Lind L. Taylor. Light is stalked by Raye Penber. Light instigates the bus accident with some criminal high on marijuana. Light kills Raye Penber. Light kills Naomi Misora—"

"Are all humans this weird?" Rethe grumbled from where he was floating behind me. "You keep talkin' about L, L, Light, Light. I'm bored, dammit! You got my Death Note, at least kill someone with it!"

"No," came my immediate reply. "Light kills Naomi Misora. Light and L take the To-oh University entrance test. Light and L start school at To-oh—"

The piece of paper which I had used to collect my thoughts days before had been recycled; recording anything on paper or computer was much too risky. The only thing I could rely on was my memory, so I had taken to reciting the events of _Death Note_ every night before going to bed.

I had never thought that my obsession would be useful in such a way, but now I hoped that re-reading _Death Note 13: How to Read_ umpteen-times had made my memories accurate.

"—Light and L play tennis. Soichiro Yagami gets a heart attack. The Second Kira's videos are played by Sakura TV—"

I had not destroyed Rethe's Death Note. Still, the idea of it sitting under my bed terrified the living daylights out of me, and the only reason I kept it around was because of the thought that it, or Rethe, might someday be useful to me.

Though I prayed—to which deity I didn't know—that I would never have to use it.

"—Soichiro Yagami crashes a truck into Sakura TV and takes the tapes. Police stop supporting L. L figures out there's a Second Kira. Light Yagami joins the investigation team—"

The world I was now in felt so very strange. It was almost exactly the same as the world in 2010, as if the entire timeline of things had simply been shifted back seven years. There were a few changes (for example, different world leaders as a result of elections that hadn't happened yet) but all in all, nothing big. I was the same age. My friends were the same age. My parents were the same age. My grandma was the same age. My little sister was the same age. It was eerie, and it scared me.

Getting used to seeing "2003" instead of "2010" on newspapers scared me, because I was afraid that if I did that, I would slowly stop remembering the world that had been.

"—Light makes a fake Kira message when L asks him to. The Second Kira sends a new video in reply. Misa finds Light. The Second Kira sends a video announcing she found Kira. Misa goes to Light's house—"

Criminals had started dying.

"—and becomes Light's girlfriend. Misa meets L. L confirms that Misa is the Second Kira and puts her in custody. Light turns himself in. Light gives up his power in custody, losing his memories. Light—"

The American media was not aware of the situation until about two weeks after November 28th, which I guessed was because Light was in Japan and had taken a while to work on a global scale. But when he did, the effect was immediate.

The world was abuzz. Savior? Murderer? Good? Evil? God? Satan? My classmates discussed the killings. My chemistry teacher brought it up in class. I had never paid much attention to the news before, but now, I paid attention. The headlines blared like sirens: ANOTHER SLEW OF CRIMINALS KILLED. MYSERIOUS KILLINGS CONTINUE. SERIAL KILLERS DIE OF HEART ATTACK, POLICE BAFFLED.

The case had no name—no, _he_ had no name. The media refused to give him a name, but the netizen community knew him.

Kira.

Kira, kira-kira. I could now Google "Kira" and find results pertaining to the deaths. I even found the website Light had once shown Ryuk, the one that spoke of Kira as a savior and a legend.

I always kept silent whenever someone brought up Kira. They debated and argued and laughed about it, and I just sat there, feeling rather horrible. Sometimes I wondered what other people had in mind when they thought of Kira. An angel? A demon? A god like one of those perfectly sculpted Greek statues?

When I thought of Kira, I saw Light in his last moments, bleeding and desperate. I saw Mikami, despairing and furious and disillusioned and hopeless. I saw Misa, blindly faithful and devoted and used. None of them had any idea, any idea at all, that Kira was no god, he was no savior, no legend. He was just a normal teenager drunk on power.

The Death Note scared me, but Kira just made me sad.

"I'm booooored."

_Sucks to be you_, I thought, rolling my eyes.

"Oi, human, I don' get it. That Kira dude's killin' other humans with his Death Note, ain't he? Didn'tcha say you wanted t'stop him?" Rethe hopped onto my bedpost, twisting his head around in ways human bones are not supposed to go. "Why don'tchu just kill him, then?"

"It's not that easy. And when will you start using my name?"

He ignored my question. "Sure it is. All y'gotta do is take your pencil, write his name and bam, he's dead."

"We humans have morals, you know?" I spun around in my chair to face him. "I don't feel like it's right for me to judge someone. And Kira's not pure evil, he's just misguided."

"So you're jus' gonna let this go?"

"No! Yes. I don't know."

"Suit yourself," he said, sounding amused. "Be a lot more interesting if y'just killed him, tho."

"I won't," I said, not amused at all. "I told you before, Rethe, I _hate _the Death Note." My eyes flickered over to my bed. I wasn't kidding; just sleeping over that thing gave me nightmares. No one should have been able to kill another person so easily.

What truly terrified me, though, wasn't just the Death Note's power. It was the _temptation_, itching just beneath my fingers, a temptation I hadn't known I would ever have—until I picked up the Death Note.

Rethe let out a deep, guttural sigh. "I don' get you humans and your stupid…whaddya call 'em again?"

"Morals," I repeated. "Ethics."

"Yeah, those." He looked at me with a laugh etched in his skull-like face. "If y'hate the Death Note so much, why don' you give it up?"

I fell silent and went back to my homework.

With these kinds of conversations, days passed. The news screamed of death. All along the streets, I heard his name pounding like an incessant mantra: _Kira. Kira. Kira._ And still, I went to school, studied, watched anime, remained indecisive.

What should I do?

Even knowing Kira. Even knowing L, Misa, Wammy's House, the Death Note, Shinigami, the future—

Did knowing the future mean I had to change it?

If I let the world run on its own, of course Kira would die, the killings would stop, the Shinigami would return to their realm, and I could live out my life—thousands of miles away from the war raging in the East. Peacefully, blissfully.

Thousands of miles away, while hundreds of thousands died.

There were probably people who would make the decision without hesitation. Who would throw away everything to get the chance to meet L, or save L and Mello and Matt, or even just for the sake of human life. Who were kind, or strong, or otherwise just violently obsessed fangirls. I wished that they were in my shoes, because I wasn't like any of them. I was simply talentless, without convictions, without ideals. The only thing I had ever been able to do was study…

Even if I made up my mind to do something, what could I do? Kill Light? Find L? I was an ordinary girl with a Death Note, without the passion or ambition to do anything. Living my life, I sometimes thought, was good enough.

And yet.

"Didn' they say Kira was killin' criminals?"

"Mm," I muttered, not really paying attention. _Pi to the power of three is—_

"Wouldn' that make him a good guy t'you humans, then?" Rethe prompted.

"Not really," I said, getting pulled out of my textbook. "He's not just killing criminals, he's killing innocent people, too. And their families—he's killing them, inside. He's killing policemen, FBI agents, people who get in his way." I paused. "No, he's not a good guy. He's a bad guy. Well, a bad guy with morals."

"Isn' that what you said you've got?"

"…twisted morals," I corrected myself.

Rethe snorted. "You humans are so damn complicated."

Was it right, though? Didn't Light have the right idea? After all, we had the death penalty; wasn't it the same thing?

…no.

The death penalty was carried out by the courts, by the law, by justice. And not even the death penalty was right all the time—after all, how many innocent people had been convicted since the beginning of the system? The death penalty was not perfect. The justice system was not perfect.

Light Yagami, by definition, was not perfect, but he seemed to think he was.

Perhaps it would have been best if I had simply lived, and let fate play out, let L die, let Soichiro Yagami die, let Mello die, let Near take down Light, let the world return to normal after…

But.

"Rethe," I said quietly, "We're going to Japan."

I didn't have to look behind me to know that he was grinning a ghastly grin.

* * *

If convincing myself to head to Japan was hard, convincing my parents to let me do it was even harder.

It would have been extremely convenient if a prestigious scholarship or exchange program or something had magically appeared, or even if I had simply teleported, but alas this was not the case. As it was, I had to promise my parents perfect grades and all sorts of other impossible things before they finally agreed—two weeks later.

(I also had to pay for my own plane ticket—so there went my anime fund.)

But after those two weeks, I was the envy of all my friends. I didn't have the heart to tell them that, contrary to their expectations, I would be heading to a world of death and doom, not fangirl heaven.

"Rethe, are you sure you don't want some?"

"I told you, I'mma shinigami. Why th' hell would I want human food?"

"It's really good." I took a big bite out of the apple strudel to prove my point. "See?"

"You plannin' somethin'? Shinigami can't be poisoned, you know."

I sighed through a mouthful of strudel. "Nevermind."

I had been trying to coax Rethe into sampling human food, to see if there was anything he could possibly be addicted to as much as Ryuk was, but it seemed that Ryuk was an anomaly among the Shinigami. It really was a shame. If I could control Rethe the same way Light controlled Ryuk, it would make my life so much easier…

And then I felt disgusted. Was I really going to go to the same lengths that Light did? Wasn't manipulating Ryuk with apples the same as manipulating a drug addict with his daily fix? With that thought, I threw the rest of my dessert into the nearby trash can; it suddenly tasted like cardboard.

"You finally done?" Rethe stretched his wings. Perched on the top of the park bench, he was still huge and batlike. "Good. Can we get goin' somewhere? You were gonna go check out the police place, right?"

"The police headquarters," I corrected. "But yeah. Let's go, Rethe."

The Despite the tremor of fear that ran through me, I stood, dusted myself off, double-checked my purse, and straightened up, like a warrior going to battle—

Or so I wish, haha.

I had decided that the best thing to do was get into contact with L as soon as possible, but it was much more easily said than done. I could call the National Police Agency and leave a message for the task force, but I doubted they would take me seriously. Another choice was to visit all the sweet shops in Tokyo asking for a weird guy with weird hair in a white shirt, blue jeans, and no socks (descriptive enough, right?). But it was still highly unlikely that I would find L through such a simple method, because 1) there was no way he would appear in public so easily before introducing himself to Light, and 2) my life did not work out that way.

Simple.

Well, anyway, it was December 28, 2003, and I had exactly one week left in Tokyo to find L before I had to return to the United States.

_If my memory's right, then Naomi Misora died and the NPA met L on New Year's Day. I have four days until then...what should I do?_ I sighed. At least I had a place to stay. Perhaps I could really do some sightseeing? My fangirl side was mourning the fact that here I was, at the birthplace of anime and manga, yet unable to succumb to my obsessions.

"Oi, you're lookin' fer the police place right?" Rethe suddenly flew up. "This it?"

I looked up. "Yeah, that's it."

It was huge. But that was to be expected. With glass panes and tall columns and that big sign that said _National Police Agency_, it was also hard to miss.

And very intimidating.

I swallowed nervously when a couple of policemen walked out from the sliding doors, glancing at me curiously. Rethe cackled behind me.

Maybe I should just…wander. Scoping out the battleground before a battle was always a good idea, right?

And I still needed time to think about my first move. Whatever I did, I had to make sure that my moves would only lead to victory. Acting hastily and making mistakes would mean I was more likely to get caught. My decision made, I nodded firmly and spun on my heel, determined to return to my home base. Aka my hotel room.

"Hey, whozzat?" Rethe asked suddenly. "He's got a shinig—"

"Excuse me, miss. Are you lost, by any chance? Do you need help?"

Extremely polite Japanese. A smooth, cultured, and kind voice.

I knew who it was going to be before I actually turned around to face Light Yagami.

He was good-looking, I would give him that much. He had a face that was handsome in an almost aristocratic kind of way, and not only that, but his appearance was impeccable; there wasn't a single hair out of place on that brown head of his. From the neck up, he really looked like a model. From the neck down, though, it was clear that he was dressed for business—slacks, blazer, collared shirt. He was also carrying a box wrapped in a handkerchief under his arm. A homemade lunch box?

"Whozzat, Yue? Whoa—hey! It's Ryuk! Hiya, Ryuk! Whatcha doin' down here for?"

All this I took in with a single glance before I had to look him in the eye. I hoped I looked reasonably calm, because inwardly, I was panicking.

_What's with this horrible luck? Meeting Light Yagami on my first day here? This can't be a coincidence. Is someone out to get me? Am I just this unlucky? Or is it just that Light Yagami is really lucky? Ohmigod, I'm looking a killer in the eye! A killer! What do I do? What do I do? Wait, did he ask me something?_

"Sorry…um, could you repeat that, please?" I said in halting Japanese.

Comprehension dawned. He smiled at me kindly and obliged, slowly enunciating the words: "Are…you…lost…miss?"

"Hey, whatcha laughin' at me for? It ain't funny! Ryuk!"

I flushed unintentionally. He thought I was lost. And, since I just revealed that I wasn't a native, he probably thought I was a lost tourist. Which I kind of was. A tourist, I mean. But not lost.

Suddenly, a flash of inspiration.

He thought I was a lost tourist? Let him keep thinking it, then. All I needed was to maneuver out of this situation. Play the lost tourist…even better, play the lost tourist who sucked at Japanese and was enamored with her savior!

"Ah…um…yes," I said, acting as though I was searching for the words. Which I kind of was. "Do you…know—where—the Sunset Hotel is?"

"Actually, I do. It's very close to here—walk down the street for about a block, then turn right, and…" he trailed off when I gave him the universal look for "I have no idea what you're saying, dude." He frowned in contemplation, and then said, in perfect English, "Do you speak English?"

"_Yes!_" I said in English back, hoping I sounded relieved. "You know it? Thank God! I thought I was going to be lost forever!"

He laughed. It was a soft, cultured sound. "It is a good thing I found you, then." He pointed down the street. "So, the Sunset Hotel—you walk down the street for about a block, and then turn right. The hotel should be on your left."

I bowed. "Thank you so much!" I added another thank you, this time in Japanese, and he laughed again.

"Anytime." He paused. "My name is Yagami, Yagami Light. And you are—?"

"Oh!" I gasped, grabbing at my phone and checking the time. "I'm sorry, um—Yagami-san! I was supposed to be at the hotel half an hour ago! Oh, no, Mom's going to be so mad…I'm sorry, I have to go!" I bowed again, hurriedly, and then ran in the direction he had pointed in, turning around to wave at him. "Thank you again!"

Light looked startled, but smiled anyway and waved back.

"Oi, Yue! Wait, I wanna talk with Ryu—ah, dammit, whatever. Seeya aroun', Ryuk! Wha—hey! Stop laughin' at me! Wait up, Yue! Yu-e-!"

* * *

"Hyuk hyuk hyuk!"

Light's kind smile slipped off his face as soon as the strange girl disappeared from sight.

"What are you laughing at, Ryuk?" he said quietly, barely moving his lips as he did so.

"Hyuk hyuk hyuk! Oh, nothing!" the shinigami cackled. He was laughing so hard that he was literally doing twists and turns in the air.

Light started heading for the police headquarters to deliver his father's lunch like originally planned. "Oh, really?" he said, still softly. "Will it still be nothing even if I buy you apples, Ryuk?"

"Gurk!" Ryuk stopped midtwist. "…you're pretty cruel, you know, Light?"

Light did not reply. Instead, he smiled at the receptionist at the front desk—a woman today—asking her if she could ensure that the boxed lunch was delivered to his father; she blushed prettily and nodded. Ryuk watched all this with narrowed eyes. As soon as he and Light exited the building, he started chuckling again.

_This is really starting to annoy me_, thought Light. _I better hurry up and put an end to it._

With that in mind, he bought a batch of apples from the local convenience store, observing as Ryuk literally started drooling over them.

"Apples, Light? Why so many?" his mother said as he took off his shoes.

"I wanted to take them up to my room so I can eat them as I study," he lied smoothly. "Fruit is supposed to be good for the mind."

"Well, okay, but don't spoil your appetite," she said doubtfully. "A boy can't grow on nothing but fruit."

"Don't worry, Mother, I won't eat them all at once," he promised. _Ryuk will eat them all for me._

But he was in for a surprise.

"I still ain't telling you, you know," Ryuk said, doing loop-de-loops around his room.

A raised eyebrow was the only expression of surprise Light allowed himself. "What? Not even for apples?"

"Nope! Not even for apples!"

Light frowned slightly, but inside his mind was racing. _That girl…she didn't look foreign to me, and she definitely seemed to recognize me from somewhere when she saw me. That expression on her face—she looked surprised? _Scared? _And her whole 'lost tourist' gig…was it an act? It was pretty realistic. But Ryuk was laughing the entire time…that must mean I'm missing something. Moreover, it's something he won't even give up for apples…what's more important to Ryuk than apples?_

"_I came down here…because I was bored."_

Light's eyes widened. _Of course! Entertainment! In other words…he thinks this girl will provide him with entertainment? Or—no, he thinks _not knowing _whatever it is he's hiding will provide entertainment…what could Ryuk have found out about the girl so quickly that would make him think her amusing?_

Ryuk was a shinigami.

And only a shinigami.

_Something to do with the Death Note? _

He froze.

_Wait a second!_

_Is it possible that that girl…had a Death Note?_

"Ryuk," he said, as calmly as he could, "let's play a game. Tell me if I've guessed right or wrong about that girl—and you get an apple."

"Hyuk hyuk hyuk!" Ryuk threw back his head and cackled. "You don't give up, do you? Guess away!"

"Is she a Death Note user?"

Ryuk fell silent. Then, he said, "No, you're wrong, Light."

Light blinked in shock. He was wrong? Then what else could it possibly be? He could feel his frustration growing. True, there was some relief that the girl wasn't in possession of a Death Note—but at least then he would've known exactly what the problem was and then could figure out a way to deal with it. Instead, he stood facing the unknown…

…and Light _hated _the unknown.

_This is bad_, he thought, worry bubbling up within him. Normally, a single girl wouldn't be able to get him this worked up, but Ryuk's attitude had him completely unsettled. He was used to controlling the shinigami however he wanted, and having the shinigami disobey him was a rather rude wake-up call.

_Tch. I let my guard down because I thought I'd killed all those FBI agents…what if she is one? No, I can't believe I slipped up that much. I didn't even get her name—she ran off before she could answer me. Then again, maybe Ryuk's just trying to mess with me_—

He paused again.

It was true that he hadn't gotten her name, but he _had _gotten something else.

"She's staying at the Sunset Hotel," he murmured.

Ryuk glanced at him from where he had stolen an apple. The shinigami swallowed his bite of fruit, then said, intelligently, "Huh?" Without waiting for the shinigami to come up with something coherent to say, Light grabbed his jacket and dashed out the door. "Wah—hey—Light!"

"I'm going out, Mother, I left something at the bus stop!" the brunet called as he ran down the stairs. _I don't know how long she's going to remain there—I have to go and find her, fast. I'll come up with an excuse on the way._

* * *

"That was too close!"

I flopped down on the park bench with a sigh, letting my luggage roll itself to a stop. Rethe hovered just above my shoulder, looking rather annoyed.

"Hey, hey—why'dya run outta that hotel-place? It had those cool TB thingies!"

"TV," I corrected automatically. "And I ran out because it wasn't safe." Some passersby gave me odd looks, but I'd already learned the hard way that ignoring Rethe's questions just meant that he got more annoying, so it was better to answer him.

As soon as we got back to Sunset, I had realized that in my haste to get away, I'd given Light the perfect mechanism by which to track me down. I had immediately thrown all my clothes into my suitcase and gotten myself checked out of the hotel as soon as possible, then power-walked away from it—and the police headquarters—as far as I could.

The good news was: I was probably out of Light's range now.

The bad news was that I now had no place to stay.

Ugh.

Suddenly, a horrible thought struck me. I glanced at Rethe. "Rethe…"

"What?"

"Back there, at the police headquarters…you were talking to Ryuk, weren't you?"

"Yeah, I was," he huffed. "Stupid jerk didn' answer me none, either. Jus' kept laughin' at me. Hmph! See if I ever talk t'him again!"

I sighed, a little relieved. "Oh, okay." So that meant Light probably didn't know I had a shinigami—yet. Knowing my luck, though, he had probably bribed Ryuk with apples or something by now, especially if Ryuk had been laughing the entire time.

After a bit of rest, I heaved myself up. Time to find a new hotel.

* * *

"She checked out?" Light said, unable to hide his disbelief and disappointment. "Are you sure?"

The Sunset Hotel receptionist nodded, flushing. Even sad, this boy was really cute—although he was probably too young for her… she sighed at the thought. When he cleared his throat awkwardly, she hastily straightened. "Um, yes! A girl with short black hair, right? I think she checked out a while ago."

_That settles it_, Light thought grimly, _that girl definitely has something to hide. Well, maybe not…maybe she was meeting her mother—_A thought suddenly struck him and he said, "Excuse me? You said _she _was the one who checked out?"

The receptionist nodded, slightly confused. "Um, yes."

"Not her mother or father?"

"_Oh, no, Mom's going to be so mad…"_

"Not that I recall…" the older woman said slowly, pushing up her glasses. "That is…I could be wrong. But I think she was staying here alone. One of those teenage tourists, you know…" She trailed off and turned pink as Light leaned closer to her, smiling disarmingly.

"I'm sorry to ask you this," he began, "but could you possibly tell me her name…" he let his eyes drop to the receptionist's own name tag "…Murasaki-san? She dropped something of hers, you see, and I really want to return it to her."

"Ah—um—that is," the receptionist stuttered. "It—it's hotel policy—not to disclose the information of customers—"

Light leaned in a little closer, just for effect. "I'm sure it wouldn't matter in just one case," he said, purposefully lowering his voice. "Right, Murasaki-san? After all, it's not as though I'm a crimin—"

"What's going on here?"

With a mental curse, Light pulled back to look at the other hotel receptionist. The balding man raised an eyebrow at him. "Can we help you with something, sir?"

"No, it's alright," Light lied. "I was looking for a friend, but it seems that she's not here anymore. Thank you anyway."

As he left, he heard the older receptionist scolding his female colleague: "What do you think you're doing, flirting on the job? And anyway, isn't he a little young for you?"

"I—but—"

_So that girl was definitely lying_, Light thought as he began walking faster. _Her mother's not even in Japan. Well, at the very least, she does seem to be a tourist…and this _is _an international hotel. An agent from another foreign agency, maybe? That would explain why she was near headquarters—but not why Ryuk was laughing so hard. _

_I can't help but feel like there's a piece missing._

Unbeknownst to him, a small smile was starting to form on his face even as his brain whirred.

_Following that line of thought—maybe she's a replacement agent sent to keep track of me? That would also explain why she looked so startled when she saw me, and Ryuk's laughing. But still, a proper agent would never have gotten caught like that in the first place—no, she was just standing out in the open right in front of the station, the chances of her tailing me are almost nil…_

Ryuk was having a fit of silent laughter above him. _As I thought—this is _so _much more interesting! _

Ignoring the shinigami, Light narrowed his eyes.

_More importantly, I have to find her again. If she's a threat to my reign as Kira, then I have to find out her name. _

_Now, if I were her…what would my next move be?_

* * *

"What should my next move be?" I muttered to myself as I changed into my pajamas.

It was now night. I'd finally found a hotel far enough away from Sunset and cheap enough for me to afford. Its looks and quality pretty much reflected its price, but it was better than nothing, and I couldn't call my parents and ask them for more money now—they'd ask me why and I'd have no explanation to give them. "I was running away from a serial killer so I changed hotels" didn't sound all that plausible when it was said aloud.

But my money was definitely running low, now. So that meant I was limited not only by time, but by funds—or lack thereof. And Light had already found me, which was even worse.

I had to make a move, soon.

Think. Think!What good was all my knowledge of _Death Note _if I didn't know how to use it?

"My goal is to meet L," I said out loud. "Finding him would be impossible. So when's the first time he comes into the open?"

_When he takes the To-oh entrance exam_, my brain answered.

But if I remembered correctly from anime, entrance exams were usually after the New Year, because anime characters often prayed for success on New Year's Day…

And I had one more week in Tokyo. Exactly until January 4th. Somehow, I had the feeling it would be too late.

I squeezed my eyes shut in an effort to concentrate.

_Think…_think!

L had to have shown himself once! At least once, before the entrance exam!

_Somewhere, somehow…please let there be a way…_

L communicated through Watari. How did he do that? He had Watari go into the police headquarters and broadcast him through a computer…but that was no good. Watari was probably careful enough that no one could find him or tail him, or else L would've been discovered a long time ago.

_Think!_

_Think, dammit!_

My eyes snapped open.

There was a way—one way, that was incredibly risky, but if it worked…

"Didja finally think'a somethin'?" Rethe asked me as he floated upside-down in the air.

I said nothing, my mind whirring with all the possible ways this could go wrong. But I couldn't see any other path.

I had to sneak into NPA headquarters.

* * *

**Author's Note: YES, I'M ALIVE.**

**And yes, FINALLY AN UDPATE.**

**I…wrote a lot more than I expected…the plot just kind of took off on its own…**

**60 favorites and alerts! Thank you guys so much for supporting me even through the complete lack of updates! And 25 reviews for a single chapter…wow…when I was starting out as a fanfic writer I'd be thrilled to get more than two.**


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